The Rules of Power
by Horsefly20
Summary: After the tragic murder of her family, Selene Huelsing is placed under the care of the British government. When Selene is revealed to possess incredibly high cognitive abilities, she is then placed under the care of Mycroft Holmes. She must study to become his successor. In the end, will she find happiness? If so, will it conflict with Mycroft's personal interests ?
1. Chapter 1: Their First Encounter

Their First Encounter

Alexandra Selene observed the surrounding vicinity. Her current whereabouts remained unknown. She had been taken away from her peers and escorted into a concealed _dungeon._ Selene suspected she was now located somewhere in the London metropolis.

The holding room before her was rather dull. The walls held a unitary monotone color. Yes, some decorum could be noted. A flower base engraved with Hindi script was located in the far corner of the room. The intricate designs of the base create a foil with the rather plain environment. The more Selene stared at the odd relic, the more she realized the device seemed out of place.

A door opened in the distance. Mutterings vibrated down the hall. Selene could here foot steps approaching from behind the door. She immediately curtailed her slouch and observed the doorknob turn. Even before the strangers entered the room, Selene could clearly make out certain facts from the complex set of vocal inflections. The door crouched open, and two men inched forward. Selene starred directly before her. There had been two speakers - one dominant and one submissive. So which one was which?

" This is she." One of the men spoke. Selene shifted her head. So he was the subordinate? Selene observed his physical appearance. Yes, he was nicely dressed. His suit was first hand. His cologne was expensive, and he spoke with a significant amount of poise. However, nothing could compare him to that of his colleague. How stupid of her! She should have made the connection sooner.

The second man held a mysterious lure. Unlike seconds prior, he said nothing. He simply took in her appearance. Selene did not look away. A wave of fear flashed through her veins. His eyes were most awl striking she had ever encountered – almost God like. Selene felt as if his sapphire vessels could easily penetrate her and look into the depths of her soul.

Human instinct took over. Almost immediately, her standard emotional responses began to shut down. Selene began to mimic her visitor's facial expressions - rather than reveal her own discontent. His emotionless appearance warranted an uncalculated rising of the left eyebrow. Selene copied the man.

The subordinate – also known as _the other man_ – picked up a file. "Alexandra Selene Huelsing. Age 17. " The man handed his superior the file. The older man, roughly forty, perused the documents. "You failed to mention a criminal record." He murmured with some distaste. The subordinate involuntarily flinched.

" It was mentioned to your people in the background investigation." The younger man choked out. The serpent man slowly, like a predator, raised his head from the folders: "I was not informed." His said a low, yet emotionless voice. "She is one of our best." The younger man responded – as if to justify. The boss looked back to the young girl: "We will see about that." He took in her physical features again.

A chill entered the room. Selene couldn't tell if it was the lack of heat or the man who stood before her. "I will leave you to get acquainted." The younger man exclaimed. Selene raised an eyebrow. He was clearly grateful to be leaving. He then scrambled out the door. A clambering could be heard from the distance.

Selene was now left alone with this rather intimidating man. There was a long silence. Their first interaction started with him circling her like a hawk. A knot formed in her stomach. He was the predator, and she felt like his prey. Selene resisted making a cynical remark to diffuse tension. Yet she had no clue what was going on, so she thought it best to keep her mouth shut. "Alexandra Selene. Age 17. Parents' deceased. Orphan. High standardized test scores. Personality: INTJ." He spoke a loud. He then looked over her body: "Eldest child. Socially awkward, yet street smart. One previous lover. Confident, yet timid. Hmm, my dear. You seem as unsettled as the rest." Selene didn't say anything. No doubt that was supposed to freak her out, and it did.

"Yes, you have clearly done your research." She nodded her head in respect. The man raised his eyebrow. "May I inquire to whom I am speaking too? Or am I not privileged enough to know that information?" The older man gave her a smirk. " I apologize if you find our security measures … restrictive." Selene narrowed her eyes and resisted a singular chuckle: "I can think off a few stronger words than that." She murmured.

The man twirled his umbrella. "You will refer to me from now on as Mister Holmes." Selene gave him odd look. Holmes. What a sophisticated, yet annoying name. "Are you my new legal guardian?" She inquired of him. A grimace crossed his face. Over the course of a few seconds, it transformed into a rather fake smile. "Something of the sorts."

Selene gave him a suspicious look. Dimming down his communication to make himself seem less intelligent was not a good idea. She finally nodded her head and got herself to relax. A phone began to ring from the man's pocket. "Forgive me," He exclaimed. "I must take this." He attempted leave. "Wait," She spoke. "He stopped in his steps. " What is your name?"

He clearly looked annoyed now. "I have already told you." Selene shifted her head. "I was referring to your first name. You know mine. It seems only fair that I know yours." The man looked at her like she was a goldfish. He then spoke reluctantly after a moment's contemplation. "My name is Mycroft."

Selene starred blankly at him for a moment. "An enclosed, small field?" She blurted out randomly. Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon?" A slight blush caressed her cheeks. " _Myoe_ is the English root for 'mouth of the stream.' _Croft_ mean enclosed, small field."

Mycroft stopped what he was doing and gave her curious look. " I am assuming your heritage derives from Derbyshire or South Yorkshire?" Selene inquired from the older man. He ignored his call and stepped forward. " I am assuming, based off your surname, your paternal heritage reigns from Munich, Germany?" He retorted. So he was answering a question with a question? She had apparently hit close to home.

She decided to throw him off course. This was not a challenge. She was clearly entertaining him too much. "Your name is rather lovely." Selene replied as innocently as possible. Now that was a red herring. Mycroft was distracted for less than a second.

He gave her smirk. " I sure your _Helios_ finds your name agreeable as well." He goaded her. Selene knotted her nose. His implication to her current situation could be associated with that of the novel _Oedipus Rex._ Instead, Cleopatra's children, Helios and Selene, were brother and sister. Such a thought filled her with disgust. Instead of feeding into his insult, she gave him a witty reply: "Yes, when he is not busy plowing fields with umbrellas I am sure he is rather lovely." Selene teased him. Mycroft gave a sadistic glance. Apparently, he was no longer amused. "But he is not you, Mr. Holmes." She added for respect. Then she added: "You are not as witty."


	2. Chapter 2: Never Outshine the Master

**Authors Note: I do not own Sherlock as everyone is well aware. I want to thank everyone who followed and favorited this story. I look forward to hearing your personal opinions about the plot. What do you like ? What do you don't like ?**

Rule #1: Never Outshine the Master

Selene observed the dark, dusty surroundings. After her rather snarky discussion with Mr. Holmes, she had been dragged to rather posh facility. Her ride from the government office to this forsaken place had been rather uneventful. She couldn't decide what was worse: this place or the mysterious building she had been brought from earlier.

After exiting the building, Selene had struggled to conceal her shock when a limousine – possibly worth more than 77,000 pounds – had pulled up to collect her and her _guardian_. Mycroft had barely batted an eye to her awl struck response. Words flashed through her head. He had said, _There were others_. What did he mean by that? And even so, was this reaction typical?

The inside of the car was custom furnished. Having been in one limousine prior for a family friends marriage party, Selene understood what the typical interior design consisted of. Selene immediately noticed this was not standard furnishing. It was far more luxurious, far more expensive. Meaning, this was not a government vehicle. This was Mr. Holmes's personal transportation unit.

An older man sat in the front. "Where do you want to go, Sir?" His English was impeccable; however, slight traces of Irish accent leaked into his voice. Mr. Holmes picked up a newspaper, almost content to ignore her. "The Diogenes, Sinead." Selene just sat there awkwardly, trying not to display her discomfort.

Her back was incredibly rigid. She didn't dare slouch in the presence of such a man. Sinead, the driver, spoke from the front: "So, what is your name, Miss?" She saw him give a smile though the front mirror. "My name is Alexandra Selene Huelsing."

The driver narrowed his eyes: "Huelsing? Your not from around these parts, are you?" Selene shook her head. "Hey, you don't happen to be related to a Samuel and Mariah Huelsing do ya?" Sinead asked seconds later. Mycroft placed down his paper. " Sinead, " There was firmness in his voice. "Do you have any idea how many Huelsings live in Germany?"

"Not very many." Selene blurted out. "Our last name is a bit of a rarity." She immediately wished she had stayed quiet after receiving a negative look from Mr. Holmes. "My father's English name was Mark." Mycroft then gave her an amusing look. Cynicism lurked in his next statement: "Your father's name was Mark? And your name was Alexandra Selene? How ironic." He then looked back down at his paper. He immediately looked like a serpent. Selene and Sinead were completely quiet for the rest of the journey.

So now, Selene sat in an office, observing her dark, dusty surroundings. She had apparently been dragged to rather posh facility. For the moment, Selene couldn't bring herself to decide what was worse: this place or the mysterious building she had been brought from earlier. She sat rigidly before Mycroft. At the moment, he was at his desk flipping through more files. Mr. Holmes looked as cerebral as ever.

How had this happened? How? This situation was utterly perplexing and yet incredibly traumatic. Her poor mother and father … She had found them dead, along with her two younger brothers, only a few weeks prior. Selene couldn't bring herself to think of them at the moment. She had cried every night since the tragedy.

Her parents, her mother, stepfather, and infant brothers had been murdered. From what she could deduce, her father had been tortured, her mother had been raped, and her younger twin brothers had been shot in the skull. The only thing that was more alarming was that her three younger sisters and her other brother had had to view the after effects of such a tragic event. They were so young, and so impressionable. Now, they would bear an irremovable scar for the rest of their lives.

A question burned in her. Where were her siblings now? After reporting the event to the police, child services had immediately shown up. However, shortly after, another government service had intervened. Selene and her brother Charlie were separated from the young girls. They were then taken away.

For weeks, they had been forced to undergo a series of tests. There had been other children. Each of them equally perplexed as themselves. While socializing among their peers was absolutely forbidden, Selene had managed to extract that all their stories were very similar. All of the other adolescents were victims of mysterious tragedies. Each of them had been held in the particular vicinity from weeks to months on end.

For weeks, Selene had undergone an immense amount of tests. She had met with various psychologists. Selene was somewhat perplexed: they were not there to discuss the murder of her parents. Instead, these psychologists were attempting to determine her emotional intelligence and what personality category she fell into.

It hardly surprised her that she fell into the most rare personality category: The INTJ. Her mother had fallen into this category. However, her psychologists were astonished; apparently such a personality profile was rare, but also was practically unheard of for women.

Selene had done additional side research on the matter to distract her from her current family tragedy. She knew who she was; however, she found it interesting to see how others perceived her to be. Her personality was regarded by many different names: the Mastermind, the Architect, or the Scientist. Her psychological profile had been addressed as well. Selene had not been privileged enough at the time to know the results of her evaluation. Mr. Holmes, however, had spilt the beans during their previous encounter.

Selene involuntarily sighed to herself as she looked up. She was so glad the tests were over. Selene could not recall how many doctors' visits she had had. She had adamantly attempted to convey to the physicians involved in her case she had been in no way, shape or form, been present during the murder of her parents. Selene was never physically harmed. However, none of them seemed to care. After a while, Selene briefly wondered if they were looking for something else.

She had been forced to perform a series of cognitive tests ranging from proficiency exams covering arithmetic, reading, and grammar, to puzzle exams applying theoretical knowledge, to loquacious exams testing her communications skills. Such events had perplexed her at the time. Mr. Holmes subordinates, who ever they were, apparently approved of her results.

So now Selene sat here. She had no clue why she had been separated from her family. She had no clue where her younger siblings were. She had no clue why anyone would ever want to murder her loving parents. And lastly, she had no clue who this Mr. Holmes was and what she was doing here.

Selene just continued to stare at the mysterious Mr. Holmes. He seemed far more interested in the documents before him than her. He just sat there. Selene scanned his body. There was not a hair out of place or wrinkle on his suit. The man was an utter perfectionist. She briefly wondered if he suffered from some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"Speak," Mycroft exclaimed rather bluntly. Selene looked taken back. "Sir," She spoke politely. "I can feel your perplexity in regards to this situation. So I ask you again. Speak!" He ordered across the desk. Selene's eyes narrowed for a second. "You can feel my perplexity? I wasn't aware a man of your status lowered himself to common colloquialisms when addressing people of the general public." She sat back in her seat, feeling somewhat defiant. Selene generally was never rude; however, there was something about this man that rubbed off wrong.

Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me," He smirked haughtily. A chill ran down her spine leaving a rather sickly feeling in her stomach. He inched slightly forward, murmuring under his breath: "I hope I have not degraded you anymore than I have already debased myself." He whispered with some cynicism. Selene knew his words were meaningless. Mycroft then shifted his head. "Only cowards _lower_ themselves." Selene involuntarily shivered. Now she knew he was mocking her. After refuting him moments prior, she had inadvertently utilized an additional English colloquialism. Damn. She made a mental note to avoid further word play or a game of scrabble when dealing with this man in the future.

Selene looked away to the files on the shelves. When she looked back, Mycroft was still staring at her. Something deep, perhaps a question, was burning inside him. Selene shifted her head and mimicked his eye movements. He was like Cobra. She was his snake charmer. For a moment, just a moment, Selene thought she was in control of him for his eyes were entranced by hers. Then, her hypothesis backfired on her. Selene slowly realized his movements were influencing her more than hers were his.

Mycroft leaned back his chair and gave a smirk. He glistened like a king. "Never attempt to outshine the master, my dear." Selene looked confounded. " I beg your pardon?" Mycroft crossed his legs casually. He quickly raised his eyebrows once up and down. " Do you know story of the Sun King and his personal treasury secretary Fouquet?" Selene took a moment to think. She reflected upon the various texts her mother had read to her as child. Selene then nodded her head. " You would do well to remember that story … and how it ended." Selene paled.

Mycroft gave her a satisfied look. "Don't fear my dear, I would never hurt you." He then looked back down at his work. "But others wouldn't yield from hindering you." He added seconds later. Selene narrowed her eyes. She sensed there was a double meaning behind his words. The girl just couldn't figure out what.

"I don't have a criminal background." She replied. Mycroft nodded his head, but he refused to look or say anything. "Then why did you …" Mycroft cut her off. "You would do well not to ask too many questions." Selene looked puzzled. "Ask and you shall _not_ receive. Seek and you shall _not_ find." Selene raised an eyebrow. Who did he think he was now? The antagonist of the Apostle Mathew?

"What should I do then?" She asked him rather cynically. "Your asking all the wrong questions,." He said as he flipped through more documents. Selene just sat there. "Pray?" Selene asked incredibly. Mycroft shook his head and then grimaced. " I really thought you were brighter than that, my dear."

Selene was slightly offended by his tone of voice. "Who the hell are you?" Selene asked him rather impulsively. Mycroft looked up from his work. He gave her a _knowing_ look. _You would do well not to ask to many questions_. His words rumbled through her head like a horrible rainstorm. But the statement _Never outshine the Master_ scared her even more.

"You know who I am." Mycroft replied bluntly. _Ask and you shall not receive._ Questions flew around her like a massive twister trafficking debris. Selene stared at him for a moment. She replayed her childhood memories, looking for a memory – any memory- that may have contained him.

Selene could not remember. "Give up?" Mycroft goaded her. Forced to concede defeat, she nodded her head. _Seek and you shall not find._ Damn, she had lost. Mycroft looked back at his paper work, satisfied with himself. The young woman simply sighed and contemplated her very existence in the midst of the Diogenes.

 **...**

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	3. Chapter 3: Say Less Than Neccessary

Rule # 2: Always Say Less Than Necessary

If there was anything Selene Huelsing could infer, it was that Mycroft Holmes was not a normal man. After their encounter at the Diogenes, he had promptly called his secretary, a woman with the code name of _Anthea_ , to come and collect her. For nearly three days, Selene was forced to reside with this mysterious, anonymous woman. She had nothing personally against her. However, she acknowledged this was not her home, and family did not surround her.

 _Anthea_ had three young sons and niece whom lived with her. Selene instantly took a strong liking to the girl, Sara. She was a highly intelligent, good humored, and loving young woman. While Selene rarely saw Sara for she was in her first year of university, she found her enjoyable to spend time with. The boys – on the other hand – were a completely different story. Quillian, an eccentric seven year old, was naturally drawn to trouble. The boy was quite brilliant; however, he seemed to lack to maturity for a boy his age. Selene could easily deduce that Anthea's ethic origin hailed from somewhere in the Middle East. Her son, on the contrary, was not full Arab, so it was highly plausible that he had an Anglo-Caucasian father.

Almart was the elder son. The boy rarely spoke during their time spent together. Selene suspected he was only slightly older than she – perhaps a year or two. Unlike his brother, he had a darker complexion. His hair was ethically quite curly, but his eyes were remarkably blue. And yet they weren't just any blue, they were that same piercing blue. The one that you could tell, only by one look, that he could see into the depths of her soul. For such a reason, Selene avoided him the entire time. She knew her decision was being influenced by prejudice. Nevertheless, she was not interested in experiencing a similar encounter from days prior.

Supposedly, Almart had a twin brother. His name she had never been told. Yet Sara had briefly mentioned in the passing he was away in Morocco for the semester, apparently on some type of _government funded_ cultural emersion project, studying intense Arabic.

The family was down right quirky. They were all coming and going – although still submitting to Anthea's power. The youngest boy was dead set on becoming an adventurer. So in attempt to teach him his history lessons, Almart was constantly exaggerating the works of intellectuals and mutineers to keep his brother's short attention span. He spoke of Henry VIII ingenious conquests in France to arouse his brother's fantasies. Selene was somewhat surprised: she had thought Henry the VIII only _conquests_ had been in the bedroom. When she inquired about the matter Almart had simply snorted, and then mentioned something about women and asking too many questions.

She did not see Mr. Holmes for nearly three days. Anthea told her he was abroad, and that she would be residing with her for the time being. This further confused the young woman. If this Mr. Holmes was her guardian, even though she wasn't certain, why would she be living with his secretary?

This whole encounter was down right strange. She had no clue where her brother and sisters were. Anthea would not answer any of her persisting questions, claiming she would have to wait for Mr. Holmes. Selene tried to explain the whole, Ask and you will _not_ receive concept, but Anthea didn't reply.

Now, after three whole days, he had finally returned. Quillian was asleep when Mycroft came by, and Almart and Sara were out and about. This left Selene and Anthea alone together. Mycroft didn't even address her for the first two hours. He had a somewhat placid expression on his face. He spoke something about a man named Sherlock and some doctor to Anthea.

She had originally been asked to leave the room. When she returned, Mycroft had a glass of brandy and was sitting down cross-legged. Again, he didn't speak. Surprising, his solemn expression didn't make him look like a coward, but rather an intimidating master. As he looked up, his stare was particularly memorizing. Selene felt her gut hitch at his look. How fascinating? A man who could enchant his audience with only a single glance.

Selene shifted her head in good humor. She purposely tried to avoid giving off any physical clues of her personal state. She only wanted him to see what she wanted him to see. Their body postures presented an interesting contrast. If they were in literature, this would have been the perfect example of a character foil, she mused. Her hands were open, showing her innocent and harmlessness. His hands were clasped shut. His legs were crossed, making his body look incredibly closed off. Her body was as straight as a pencil, making her look incredibly open. His feet were pointed away from her, showing he was rather uninterested and not wanting to have _any_ formal social interaction.

Selene had never seen him - a man so formal - make such an informal demeanor. Selene gazed suspiciously around Anthea's living room. He seemed awfully comfortable in his _secretary's_ household. "You look well," Mycroft blurted out rather cynically. Selene turned her head back him, giving him her full attention. He had changed his demeanor and shielded his emotions. Selene raised her eyebrows: "Did you really have to ask, Sir?" Mycroft scrunched his noise and looked down to his drink. " A common formality." He murmured to himself.

Selene shifted awkwardly. _Always say less than necessary._ She told herself repeatedly. If Selene was conversing with _normal_ people, she would have utilized their vernacular and their frequent dialogue. However, this man was clearly not normal. He used silence as a sign of power. This was highly ironic. Usually the speaker was the one whom possessed power. In this situation, whoever spoke first, clearly showed his or her subordination.

 _Never Outshine the Master_ rumbled throughout her mind. By not speaking, she was challenging his superiority. By challenging his superiority, she was at risk for leaving herself in a vulnerable state. So how did she approach this? Acknowledge her subordination, give him a run for his money, play to his fantasies, and find his weakness and strike? The plan rumbled throughout her mind. It could work. Possibly? But only if she played her cards right.

Selene took a seat across from him. "How was your business trip?" She asked, attempting to sound sociable. Mycroft gave her a quizzical look. "I am not at liberty to discuss such matters. As a minor official in the British government, there are some things I must keep private." There was a certain amount of arrogance in his voice. Selene's eyes drifted down to his 10,000 pound suit and the back up to his face. Minor official in the British government? What sort of a fool did he take her for?

Mycroft gave her smirk, almost as if he could read her thoughts. "Not a particularly big one." He teased from across the room. Selene narrowed her eyes. A certain amount of smugness had shown through. How could this man had any personal connection to her mother and step-father? He was such an arse.

"Oh, speak up. I can hear your thinking from across the room." Mycroft flipped his hands up dramatically. Selene looked up. "Why ask when you will not receive?" She crossed her legs now and mimicked his previous defensive decision. Mycroft swished his brandy around his glass. From a distance, the liquid almost looked like pure melted gold. Its warm appearance contrasted his cold stance.

Selene chose to stare at the glass in order to avoid his harsh gaze. This caused Mycroft to shift his head and standup. Selene briefly looked at him and then around the room for Anthea. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Out of fear, her attention was brought back to Mr. Holmes, whom was promptly standing over her. Selene choose to stare at his midsection. "Look at me." He ordered her. The girl looked up into his icy blue eyes. "You will never address me in that tone again." His voice was so low it sent a chill down her spine. "Do you understand me?" Mycroft leaned in forward. Selene nodded her head: "Yes, Sir." She aloud. "It won't happen again."

"No, it won't." Mycroft reiterated," Or there will be consequences." He hissed at her. She then watched him lower his glass of brandy and place the rough glass against her lips. "Drink," He ordered. Selene submitted and choked down the liquid. Selene had never consumed alcohol before and she felt a warm bubbling effect take over in the back of her skull.

Selene was speechless. This was a government official. A man who swore to uphold the law at all cost. And yet he had just forced her to consume an intoxicating beverage that was technically illegal for her to have any form of contact with until she was eighteen. She was flabbergasted. "You may return to your room now," Mycroft spoke as he picked up the paper. She was so confused at the moment. This man was not only a normal man, he was psychotic.

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	4. Chapter 4: Conceal Your Intentions

Rule # 3: Conceal Your Intentions

After two weeks of utter insanity, Selene was finally allowed some disclosure. It hadn't been easy. She had pestered Anthea – begging and moaning as she saw fit. At first, the secretary was eager to disregard her. However, after a considerable time frame, the older woman submitted in order to gain solace from the young girl's pandering. Her sisters – her poor, young sisters – had been sent back to South Yorkshire to reside with some _colleagues_ of Mr. Holmes. And her brother, Charles, was with another foster family in East London.

Selene attempted to keep to herself during her stay. Unfortunately, the young boys struck up such conundrums during their personal encounters that she was often left restless. Coming from a rather large family, Selene was use to dealing with such eccentricities. However, this family left her feeling a bit out of her comfort zone.

Almart, the virtuoso, was constantly engrossed in Sun Tzu's novel, _The Art of War_. At first, Selene had been somewhat confounded by his unorthodox interests. She had barely indulged in reading such a complex novel herself. While Almart praised the commander as a genius, Selene regarded him with a rather cruel humor.

"There is nothing ingenious about a man who practices his military tactics on women." Almart smirk from across the table. "You have little tastes in literature." Selene shook her head: "I don't support misogynists." Almart then raised his head from his book: "Neither do I." Anthea's swift entrance cut off the rest of their discussion: "Almart."

"Yes, Mother," The young man replied. "Do you have your homework done ?" She asked him. Almart nodded his head. "Yes, finished my works on taxation and accounting fraud earlier." Almart spoke as he crossed his legs. "Good, because you will need to watch Quillian tonight. I will be out late." Anthea then turned to Selene. "Mr. Holmes has requested your presence at the office tonight." Selene raised an eyebrow: _What ever so for ?_ She thought to herself.

Selene nodded her head. "I see." That was all she could bring herself to say. "You will need to wear a formal attire. I am sure Sara can find you some appropriate clothing." Anthea stated as she turned around to look at her phone. A strange feeling dwelled at the bottom of Selene's stomach. The thought of being alone with him … no she musn't think like that.

Almart observed her from across the living room. Selene immediately turned her head, hoping he had not witnessed the blush. She then smoothed her dress. "I best be off." Selene attempted to move. Almart nodded his head. "Yes." The young woman moved half way across the room: "Mrs. Huelsing." Selene turned around. "Yes, Almart?"

The young man now took a deep breath: "Would you like to join me for stroll through London tommorrow ?" Selene was quiet for a moment. Almart looked incredibly serious, maybe even a tad plaicid."Yes, of course." Selene shrugged her shoulders. He then looked incredibly relieved.

Almart shook his head. "I have some classes tomorrow, but I shall be done by mid day. Perhaps we could meet at university?" Selene nodded at him: "Where should I find you ?"

"The London School of Economics and Political Science."

Selene smiled: "It will be a pleasure."

...

Selene was less than surprised when Mycroft Holmes's incredibly expensive limosine met her and Anthea at the front door. The two women did not engage in any conversation during the journey. However, the driver, Sinad, was more than happy to make up for the lack of silence. He asked question after question. How was she taking to her new home ? What did she think of Anthea's boys ? What stage of grief was she in?

Selene did her best to answer all of the man's questions. Anthea would occasionly looked up from her phone in utter amusement. Selene began to wonder if Anthea and Mr. Holmes often ignored him. Nevertheless, she took pity on the man and indulged his inquiries.

The vehicle pulled up and came to halt. " Where here, Ma'um." The Irish lad spoke aloud. "Thank you." Anthea replied properly as she exited the vehicle. Selene made her way to follow but was stopped. "If ye ever need some help Ma'um, I alwayz here."Sinad gave her a soft rub on the shoulder. Selene smiled at him. "I will." She then exited the vehicle and followed Anthea.

As Selene got out, she noticed the building before her was no other than the Diogenes. She had been here a few weeks prior. The young girl followed the woman through a maze of security, escorts, and back rooms. They proceeded downwards into the infamous office of Mr. Holmes. Finally, Anthea knocked on the door. "Oh, due come in Anthea."

The secretary then pushed through the door and walked forward into the room. This left Selene to trample after her. "Sir," Anthea murmured as she heartily greeted her boss. Mycroft Holmes retreated to his desk while nodding to his secretary, crossing his fingers and his legs. "Mrs. Huelsing," He graciously nodded his head to Selene. A chill zapped down Selene's spine. He looked so sophisticated, that for a moment, she was left shell shocked. Mycroft in response neglected his _ice man_ demeanor and raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Holmes," She choked out, not knowing what had just concurred.

Selene turned her head in utter shame. Anthea, oblivious to the sudden change in character, proceeded to speak to her superior in _French_ : _"_ _L'ambassadeur allemand était sur la ligne téléphonique hier. Il veut prendre rendez-vous_ _."_ Mycroft Holmes rolled his eyes at her response. Selene looked between the man and woman. Both were clearly purposely trying to cut her out of the conversation. The young girl listened carefully. She had studied nearly three years of french in school. However, her auditory skills had never been that particularly good.

Selene briefly closed her eyes, replaying the words as if they were lyrics in the back of her mind. And the lyrics revolved around like they were on a loop. For a moment, and a moment only, she found herself being sucked into a group of spiraling memories. The first random jolt was like a bullet striking a target and appeared spontaneously to her in full color. Flashes lit up her internal world. The first random memory: She watching the German Ambassador address the United Nations. _Allemand_. She was _Allemand_. Her people were _Allemand_. This _ambassadeur_ Mycroft and Anthea spoke of - most likely the same one - was _Allemand_.

A second memory flashed, almost forcing the first one to the side. Years of rigorous education. Etymology. Yes, her sitting with her brother studying the roots and suffixes of all common words. _Telephonique. Tele,_ meaning Far or Far off. Telephone. She smiled to herself, so this German Ambassador was placing a phone call ? Her vanity vanished the moment it began to lay dormant in her system. Another memory, this time more revolting, appeared from the most degrading shadows. The picture of her family's bodies lingered in the most turbulent way. Selene felt her heart skip a beat.

She had sub-consciously attempted to suppress this memory, and -now- it appeared in vibrant, haunting imagery. Selene felt nauseous. Her brothers on the floor, blooding pouring from their flesh ridden skulls. Her mother, lower clothes removed, spread out like some expendable pleasure device. Her step-father, so beaten and bloody she could no longer tell his face. She restrained tears, desperately attempting to maintain herself in the face of utter terror.

Selene desired for the world to stop spinning, for it all to the end. The insanity, it wasn't too much to bear, but she wished it would just take a moment to cease. Her mind, oh at distinct times she wished it would just shut up. That it would stop spinning, trying to generate new ideas, and would act like a normal mind.

Selene looked up. Anthea was still ranting in her ethnic tongue. Mycroft, while skillfully listening, was gazing upon the young girl with a distinct curiosity. This caused Selene to look away, for his stare was making her feel even more sick than prior. _English_. She thought to herself. _What do they call that word in English?_ A medical turn floated into her mind. _PTSD._ In addition to this random little fact, a full blast memory of a television show entered her mind: one regarding the psychology of trauma victims after accidents such rape, murder, or war. _Post Traumatic Stress Disorder._

A knocking sound roused her from her self-consuming thoughts. Selene looked downward. Mycroft's skinny knuckles were pounding on his custom made, Indian desk. Anthea, the loyal, yet utterly perplexing secretary, was simple gazing in her direction. Mr. Holmes, on the other hand, was intensly staring at her, almost if he was analyzing her for some greater purpose. At last, he turned away from her and said something unintelligible in an additional language. Was it _Arabic_? Selene just stood there. Were these people hyperpolyglots ? And why did they change languages? Did Mycroft already suspect she comprehended enough _Francais_ to be dangerous ?

To Selene's surprise, Anthea proceeded to leave the room. The young girl's mind traced her movements out the door. A new sudden fear replaced her old disruptive nightmare. The door closed with a thud. By the time Selene looked back, Mr. Holmes was standing straight tall with his arms crossed over his frame. An awkward silence filled the room. Selene just stood there. This time, however, she was faster to greet him, even if it slightly compromised her pride. " _Herr,"_ She spoke as politely as possible. This caused Mr. Holmes to raise his left eyebrow with a sign of disgust. " You are in England. The greatest country in the European Union. You are no longer a citizen of Germany, but a subject of the crown." The older man then sat down. " You will address me in English or not address me at all."

Selene stood there in total confoundment. There were so many things wrong with this situation. For starters, she had just witnessed a trilingual dialogue in the past five minutes of being in this room. Secondly, what did he mean she was no longer a citizen of Germany ? She had a German passport and a British residency. "I don't understand," Selene blurted out unintelligibly. Mycroft further cocked an eyebrow. "Which part ?" His sarcasm dripped from his voice like venom.

"I am citizen of Germany, and therefore, I am not a subject of the crown." Mycroft gave a smirk in response to her statement. "Yes, and that has clearly changed since you have last looked at your paper work." Selene continued to give him a perplexed look. Mycroft then rolled his eyes, opened his bottom dress drawer, and handed her a file. Selene raised an eyebrow not knowing what to do. "Open it," He ordered, as he dramatically pointed his umbrella. A moment's reluctance filled Selene, but she quickly overcame it.

She picked up the file, her hands slightly shaking and then flipped to the first page. Selene briefly observed the paper work. Things that took most people minutes to read took her seconds. She flipped through the paper work and then placed the whole stack on the desk. Mycroft gave her a funny look. " Are you sure your done ?" A further mocking tone filled his voice. He sat back lazily, almost informally. Selene hindered her grimace.

No. She was not done. While images were drifting through her mind at full acceleration, she was still processing the presented information. Selene was in a British Protection Program. Her English residency had been upgraded to the status of _citizen_. All of her information pertaining to her German history was gone, almost as if it never existed. Her siblings, at least the ones who were still alive, were no longer legally her siblings. And her name, her very last name, formally known as _Huelsing_ was now officially a British bastardification called _Morstan._ Selene hated his arrogant smirk. He may had well as called her _Mrs. Holmes._ It sounded just as ridiculous. She was not Mrs. Morstan. No, she was Mrs. Huelsing.

But instead of making a verbal attack, Selene copied his body language. She was not interested in compromising another weakness. This man had power. That much was for certain. The only real question was how was Selene going to use this to her own advantage ? She temporarily shifted her head, simply gazing at him. The young girl then leaned forward. _Conceal Your Intentions._

Selene gave him a coy smile. "The legal obligations stipulated in these residential contracts are incredibly thorough. It must have taken some time." Mycroft Holmes simply raised an eyebrow at her politeness. She could tell automatically he suspected something was up. "It was hardly a profound feat. I expect only the best from my subordinates. Besides," He turned his head around, looking out for someone - possibly Anthea. "For the right price, anyone can be bribed." There was a certain naughtiness to his voice.

Selene gave him a perculiar look. "Can you be bribed, Sir?" It was a legitimate question. One that caused Mr. Holmes to raise an eyebrow. He neither gave her a direct denial nor admitted to the statement. Instead, he replied: " The real question you should be asking is, 'What do I need to do to get Mr. Holmes to tell me why I am here.'" Selene rolled her eyes: " I can't ask for I will not recieve."

"Yes," He stated haughtily. "But last time I checked, "Your God helps those who help themselves." Selene narrowed her eyes: "Do you think your God ?" Mycroft simply smirked again: "No, but I am greater. For I exist." Selene just starred at him. He really was very sad, yet incredibly handsome man.

"Why Am I here ?" Selene pressed. Mycroft sighed, "Please, I would like to refrain from having a spiritual discussion at the moment." Irritation filled Selene's system. "No," She hissed, " Why am I here, in this room ?" Mycroft cocked an eyebrow: "To play my devil's advocate of course." She rolled her eyes. "Please be serious." Mycroft leaned forward: "I am serious."

Selene shook her head. "You can have anyone. Why me?" Mycroft leaned back again. "Oh, don't think yourself as special. You were pre-ordained for this job, not chosen." Selene just looked confused. Mycroft then grabbed the file, opened it, and pulled out a card. He then slid it across the desk. Selene gazed downward. "AGRA." She blurted out.

"I don't understand." She spoke. Mycroft gave her a cold, hard stare. "You will … in time."

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